The days began to roll by, and with each passing moment, Manjiro and his new friends grew closer. The bond between them wasn't just friendship anymore—it was purpose. A gang had formed, not for chaos, but to protect. Their goal: take down the Black Dragons.
Inside a small, cozy restaurant, the top members of the newly formed Tokyo Manji Gang sat huddled around a table, their meals yet to arrive. The air was tense with unspoken anticipation.
"This is going to be fun, pah!" Baji grinned, running a hand through his messy hair as he leaned back in his seat.
Manjiro, sitting with one leg pulled up, quietly sipped on his orange juice, looking oddly calm for someone planning a gang war.
"It's settled then," Draken spoke up, his tone firm. "Next Sunday. 3:00 p.m. We meet them. Don't be late."
"Let's just hope it's a fair fight," Mitsuya added, folding his arms. "Those guys are known for using dirty tricks."
"I've seen it myself," Keisuke nodded, his brows furrowed. "Chains, pipes… they don't care about honor."
Kazutora stayed silent for a moment, staring down at his fingers curled in his lap before lifting his gaze. "Are you guys really sure about this?" he asked, his voice low. "Fighting the Black Dragons… it's not going to be easy."
Manjiro turned to him, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I already said we are. So what are you worried about, Kazutora?"
Draken clapped a strong hand on Kazutora's shoulder. "We're your friends. That means we fight with you—not for revenge, but for what's right."
Kazutora's eyes shimmered, the weight of support heavy in his chest. "Thank you… everyone."
"Oi, don't get all teary-eyed on us now," Mitsuya teased, a grin tugging at his lips. "We haven't even fought yet."
Laughter bubbled up around the table just as the waitress arrived with their food. Their eyes lit up like children at a festival, and without wasting a second, they dove in.
The restaurant's air shifted—light, warm, and full of youthful fire.
After paying, the boys stepped outside. Keisuke's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and groaned. "Damn it. Why's she calling now?"
"Who is it?" Manjiro asked, raising a brow.
"My sister. Who else?" Keisuke muttered and picked up. "What do you want?"
"Buy me something to eat and drink. And don't forget two packs of chips," came the quick reply before the call ended.
"Well, looks like I've got errands to run." Keisuke sighed, pocketing his phone. "Sorry, Mikey. I'll have to skip dropping you home."
"You promised," Manjiro pouted like a sulking child. "Now I have to walk!"
"I have to buy burgers and chips! I'm a busy man, Mikey!" Keisuke declared dramatically.
Mitsuya snorted. "Busy doing chores for your sister, huh?"
"Exactly. She's lazier than a cat in summer."
"We're coming with you," Draken said.
"Eh? You don't have to—" Keisuke started, but everyone interrupted.
"We're not doing it for you," Mitsuya smirked. "It's for your sister."
The teasing only made Keisuke chuckle. "Heh. Let's go then."
Together, they walked, laughed, and grabbed everything on Asuka's list.
Back home, as Keisuke stepped inside, Asuka bolted from her room and ran to the door like a storm. "You bought it! I love you, Keisuke!" she squealed, grabbing the bag and rushing back.
"She's crazy," Keisuke muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.
---
Sunday came.
Keisuke picked up Manjiro, and at exactly 3:00 p.m., the two gangs stood face-to-face.
The Black Dragons were older, rougher, and looked down on the middle schoolers before them.
"Oh? You little punks think you can beat us?" sneered one member.
A taller, more menacing figure stepped forward. Shion Madarame. The leader. The infamous Lord Madarame.
"I'm going to make sure none of you walk out of here," he growled.
Keisuke's eyes narrowed. "So that's him…"
Kazutora flinched. His body tensed with fear. He wasn't ready.
Manjiro stepped forward, calm as ever. "Kazutora… it's okay. I'm here."
"Go home, Mikey-chan," a Black Dragon mocked. "It's past your bedtime."
Manjiro didn't respond. His silence was louder than words.
Then the fight erupted.
Kazutora and Keisuke moved together, punching, dodging, gritting their teeth through the pain. Mitsuya and Draken held their ground, eyes sharp for any underhanded move.
The ground shook with yells, fists clashing, and bodies falling. The Black Dragons fought dirty—but the Tokyo Manji Gang fought with heart.
Minutes later, the battlefield was silent.
The Black Dragons lay defeated.
Manjiro stood in the center—untouched, steady, like a storm that had just passed.
"We won, Madarame," he said, voice cold. "Admit defeat. Disband. And don't you ever go near Kazutora again."
Madarame hesitated, eyes wide with disbelief. "Fine. Our gang is… dismissed," he muttered, broken.
The older teens ran off, their pride shattered.
"Are they really just middle schoolers?" one whispered before vanishing into the shadows.
Kazutora dropped to his knees. "We… actually won."
---
Word spread fast. Tokyo shook.
Black Dragon—defeated by middle schoolers?
Some laughed. Others doubted.
But in Manjiro's school, things were different now.
That's him…
That's Mikey.
Students peeked through windows, whispering.
"He doesn't look dangerous…"
"But the tall one next to him—he's scary."
During break time, while whispers flew around, Manjiro napped peacefully on his desk, arms folded, cheek smushed into the wood.
The final bell rang, and the classroom stirred to life as students began packing up. Manjiro stayed seated, his gaze quietly fixed on Asuka. She moved with her usual calmness, slipping books into her bag, unaware of his eyes on her. The sunlight brushed against her hair, and something inside him tugged gently. It wasn't the first time he had looked at her this way, and it wasn't the first time he felt that familiar pull in his chest. Still, every time she walked away, it left a silence behind.